


The mystery of love

by markantony



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cultural Differences, Explicit because there's sex in chapter 5, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, More tags to add and maybe rating will go up as well, Mutual Pining, Talking about magic and spirits, The Dalish invented sign language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-13 06:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16011986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markantony/pseuds/markantony
Summary: Hawke stays at Skyhold after Adamant - and he brings Anders with him. The Inquisition will have to deal with it, and Dorian not only with the prospective of having a happy mage couple going around Skyhold, but with his feelings.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope to continue this as soon as I have time and inspiration.

The odd couple had been at Skyhold already for a week - well, Hawke had been for longer than that, but Anders decided to be with him after Adamant. The Inquisitor decided that before he went to Weisshaupt, he could rest at the keep and give him advice on  _how to hero_. There weren't any rooms left unless they wanted to sleep in a tent, so the Iron Bull offered his - not before a thorough cleaning - and he went to sleep with the Chargers. 

Dorian knew that the Champion was a few year older than him, maybe mid-thirties. About his partner he wasn't so sure. Maybe they were the same age and he hadn't taken care of himself at all. Or maybe he had reached his fourties. He was slim, unkempt stubble, dark circles, and... he could smell possession from where he was sitting in the tavern. Hawke was another thing. Hawke he was attracted to. He was big, beard maybe too big but it looked soft. He looked more alive even though he had struggled too. 

Sera was glaring at Anders and Iron Bull, for once, tried to persuade him not to do something reckless. Everyone knew that the mage who had blown up the Chantry was named Anders, but only the readers of the Tale of the Champion and the Inner Circle knew that man was the same Anders. If his identity became known, the Inquisitor would be accused of protecting the most wanted apostate in Thedas and both could get sentenced to death and the Inquisition would fall and Dorian would have to come back to Tevinter and _too many things we don't want, right Sera?_

Cassandra stayed away. She wanted to talk to the Champion about all his deeds but she felt uncapable of facing Anders. How did the man feel about being so hated by everybody? Dorian wondered. He didn't have anything against him. Maybe blowing up chantries wasn't the answer, but he admired his determination to free the mages. 

Dorian observed the lovers. They held hands like they were afraid to lose each other. They kissed bluntly, shamelessly, in the tavern, the garden, the ramparts... Ah, the south. So rustic, lawless, natural, open. He sighed and received a tap from Iron Bull. "Dumb vint, jealous of the lovey dovey birds?"

"Maybe. Don't look me like that, _you_ are not going to help me."

"I didn't say anything."

The door of the tavern opened and the Inquisitor opened the door. He smiled widely and he could see the smallest wrinkle forming aroung his beautiful almond black eyes. He was wearing his black hair up. He was wearing the dalish attire - those pijamas weren't for him. He walked up to Hawle, Anders and Varric and started chatting in a lively way. He adored the mannerism of the Inquisitor, how he moved his hands. As he had told him once, when the Dalish hunt, it is forbidden to talk, so they have to communicate with their hands through swift movements. But to his surprise, this was far from a new invention of the Dalish. As Lavellan explained it, it was as old as the Dalish themselves, and only as of late - the last hundred years give or take - they taught everybody that sign language so they could communicate with deaf dalish and integrate them into the life of the clan. Again, Dorian thought that it was revolutionary and that only made the Inquisitor blush, but he agreed that maybe humans and other races could copy, that the Dalish wouldn't mind sharing this knowledge, on the contrary. The same day Dorian went to ask around if they knew about this thing that the Dalish did, and only Josephine, the Iron Bull, Sera - because apparently there was always some people in the alienages that knew this sign language - and a few other elves knew. He knew of mage-born kids in Tevinter who never got to develop their abilities because nobody could communicate with them and they became mad, scarred by their magic, or quiet and silent.

And this constant use of sign language had taken root in how the Inquisitor expressed himself even when he was talking, and Dorian found it beautiful. So beautiful that he didn't notice that Hawke was staring at him and signaling him to approach. Iron Bull patted the mage's back, making him cough. He rolled his eyes at Sera at walked towards the table, sitting between Varric and the Inquisitor, who put his arm across Dorian's back.

"It's thank to him that I'm here in the first place. I was just the Herald of Andraste" he said in a grand exaggerated voice "when we got stranded in time." 

"Nice to meet you officially, Dorian. I'm Hawke," he shook his hand.

"I'm Anders."

He shook Anders hands as well. He didn't expect his voice to be deep and calming at the same time. Maybe it sounded different when the demon came out. He didn't dare to ask.

"Nice to meet you both. We met on the battlements at Adamant but it wasn't the right moment to introduce ourselves."

"You're right. Pride demons surrounding me, and archdemon flying around..."

"You've been through worse," added Anders.

"Wish I hadn't," he answered, his eyes shining. 

Varric coughed. "Sparkles' magic isn't however all about time travelling. He is very interesting in very dark and broody things."

"Varric!" complained the Inquisitor.

"I'm a necromancer. I bring spirits to fight on my behalf, scare my enemies to death, curse, take mana from my dead enemies... A very cheerful specialization I must say."

"That's interesting..." said Hawke.

"How do you work with spirits exactly? Isn't that like blood magic?"

"While you talk about these things, I think I'm out."

"Uh, Varric, let's go together, we need to talk." The Inquisitor hurried after Varric, making his dwarf friend shrug and lead. 

Dorian bit his lip watching the Inquisitor leave. He was being scrutinized by Hawke, who didn't blink during the whole explanation of Dorian, and neither did Anders. _Mana works, spirits related to death, spirits who had just left their mortal body. They don't posses nobody, they just leave once their work is done, because they are spirits, not demons..._ He talked for around half an hour just to explain the basics, as he phrased it. He wondered if Anders was bothered by his abomination. Dorian himself didn't know how one can get rid of that. But maybe...

"But I'm not an expert in spirits myself, just those of the deaths. I need to refresh my memory with a book found in the library, but you can always ask our local spirit expert, Solas. Or, if you don't want to die of boredom, our local spirit, Cole."

"Local spirit?"

"Ah, yes, it's difficult to explain. He ought to be upstairs, but he is a spirit with a body, not a man pos... Anyway. I'll leave you to your investigations. I hope we can talk again soon."

He bowed and left the tavern. He saw that Anders was squeezing the Champions' hand.

Dorian entered the Throne Room and found the Inquisitor sitting by Varric, who was busy writing. Lavellan jumped when he saw the mage. "Dorian! Sorry we left, I had something to discuss with Varric."

"Don't excuse yourself for leaving me with two total strangers who are too keen on spirits. It was honestly awkward and I didn't feel like talking too much."

"I didn't know if it was a good idea. I like Anders," he whispered, which made Dorian chortle, "but I wonder if it was a bad idea to bring him to a place where we have so much stuff going on with spirits."

"Do you want to tell me anything, Elmet?"

"I..."

"Hawke and Anders had not only been searching for a cure for the Blight. They want to know if there is any way to get rid of Justice. Though they are not a hundred percent sure that they would go through with it. After all, Hawke fell in love with Anders _and_ Justice" explained Varric without looking up from his papers.

"How can that be possible?" asked Dorian. "Then people ask me if I fuck with spirits."

"Ah, love, Sparkles. Tis' a mistery, even for lovers."

Lavellan coughed, Dorian blinked, Varric sighed.


	2. Chapter 2

Dorian's sleeping arrangements however had a disadvantage. For the moment. He could hear practically everything that happened in Hawke and Anders' room.  His efforts to concentrate on his book failed, largely because over the top of the pages he could hear Anders getting rid of Hawke's robes - who could say that stone walls could be so thin? -. He had seen Ander's fingers. He was in reality a Healer and his hands were dexterous, long fingered and precise in their work. He tried so hard to focus his mind elsewhere, but unbidden images kept creeping into his mind’s eye of somebody's hands in his hair. His own hands on was - it the Inquisitor? Hawke? Anders? - jaw, his neck, his back; his legs wrapped around this man waist, muscles taut and skin slick with sweat. He wondered whether the vallaslin of the Inquisitor was tattoed all over his body, whether Hawke was hairy all over... 

He could hear them, and imagined them so close that the boundaries between them blurred and they became almost one thing, as different as the two mages were. He imagined electricity. After three nights of having a frustrating boner, he decided to move to the library.

"Dorian?"

"Mrmm..."

"Dorian, did you sleep here?"

Dorian opened his eyes slowly and saw a worried Inquisitor knelt before his armchair. Dorian yawned and rubbed his eyes. He then remember he had still make up on his eyes and cursed himself. He stretched his arms. "I just fell asleep here last night, I had a lot to read."

"Hmm" he hummed, not very convinced. "I went to your room because I want to talk to you..."

"What about? The sun isn't out yet?"

"I coudn't sleep. But it does not matter, we'll speak soon. I also wanted to ask you whether you want to come to Stone-Bear Hold. Anders and Hawke are coming, they've never been there. But if you are too tired... I'll tell Varric."

"No! I'll go. Just let me refresh and we'll meet by the barn in ten minutes."

The Inquisitor beamed and squeezed Dorian's hand between his. "See you!"

Dorian felt like throwing up. He had drunk last night, he wasn't hungry a all, but the journey wouldn't be easy.


	3. Chapter 3

"Remind me why we are going to Stone-Bear Hold?"

"Politics, Dorian. Something about sword and plants commerce."

"I see you love doing your work, Inquisitor," joked Anders.

"I thought holding that title meant laying on bed all day, being fed grapes, and sending mercenaries like myself to do this kind of stuff for you," said Hawke.

"That's what I've been telling him, but neither Josephine nor him will listen! He is one of the most famous men in Thedas and he goes out like this!" exclaimed the Tevinter.

"Shh you all. I am accostumed to do things myself. Remember? Dalish."

They arrived to the camp at midnight and they decided that with that weather it would be best to put at use the tree houses. The Inquisitor gave one to Hawke and Anders, and he and Dorian shared a big one with two beds with him. It was not the first time they slept together like that, but alone in the same tent or tree house? Yes. 

At dinner, Hawke grabbed Anders and and kissed, intertwining their fingers. The Inquisitor's hand twitched. "I guess it's the first time we can enjoy a meal and a good look at the stars since we run away. It feels very nice," confessed Anders. The Inquisitor congratulated them and wished them a goodnight. 

* * *

Dorian and Anders stayed at camp. 

"So how's Tevinter?" asked Anders.

"Excuse me?"

"I mean. I can't put my mind around it. People walking down the street, and the fear of magic never crosses their mind."

"It's not quite like that."

Anders waited for an answer.

"Well you see. Mages are a majority. The minority - the non mages and the slaves - fear magic. I'm not saying this in a prideful way but people will fear magic everywhere you go."

"You are an academic, right Dorian?"

"You may call me that. The Inquisitor calls me a rebellious archivist."

Anders chuckled. "I wonder why you call him the Inquisitor when he is so wrapped around your finger and you around him."

"Don't be silly. On the other hand, what do you know about people's feelings? Varric has told me that Hawke would have knelt before you, if you know what I mean, the first day you met."

"Ah, Varric. Hawke confessed me so later. Waiting three years was a torture. You've known him for a year already, don't make him wait three."

"How did we begin talking about my motherland and now we're here?"

"I've just heard that down here we are more... open about certain things that seem wrong in your motherland. Take what you can from here. I fear I might lose Hawke one day because of Justice, but you don't have anything that will pull you back from your love."

"I too have a purpose."

"May I know what it is?"

"To change Tevinter, to better it. To end blood magic and slavery. To stop the chovinism."

"Don't leave him behind, Dorian."

"I think I might just end this conversation because I am seeing a big bear or a figure that might be Hawke approaching."

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you to imagine that the Inquisitor is wearing a yukata.

Dorian was reading when the Inquisitor entered after finishing his bath. He looked downhearted but he didn't dare to comment on it... not until the elf sat on the side of the bed and looked straight at him. Dorian sat up and put down his book. "Something wrong, Inquisitor?"

"Dorian. How many times have I told you to call me by my name?"

"Elmet."

"Right. Dorian," he jumped on his feet. "I have been thinking. A lot. I have many questions, but mostly one. I'm afraid of the answer. I will move with the avvar if I don't like it, which doesn't mean you should give me a good answer just because you feel guilty."

Dorian gulped. He was feeling suddenly sick. He was not good at this.

"I wanted to ask you..."

"I like you, a lot. I might even say I love you. I... cannot fanthom being in another place rather than with the Inquisition with you as an Inquisitor. And I've felt this since the first week we met, I saw something in you that I hadn't seen before. You are boring! And barbaric! Extremely charming, handsome, good-nature, sweet as to make my tooth root, valiant. I hadn't expected to find something that mattered more than saving the world here and in you. I'm not saying all of this to indugle you."

"Oh."

Dorian blinked. "That wasn't what you wanted to ask."

"No..."

He wanted to throw up and just as he was rising from bed to jump from the tree...

"But it is good to hear. Come, hold my hand."

Dorian turned his hear to the beaming elf with the most beautiful face and softest hands he had ever held.

"I thought I knew all of that, because I feel the same."

"What did you want to ask then?"

"When were you going to kiss me? Like, we've been together for around three months?"

"Three months? You might have told me, I would have spent less time sitting in the library watching you from apart."

"I don't know, I thought that we were together because you flirted back and we sleep in the same tent but on the other hand you didn't act on your feelings..."

"You weren't explicit with your feelings, Elmet."

"I thought I was," he bit his lip. "Maybe it was a misunderstanding on my part because I also thought that humans were like Dalish... Like, you slept together together..."

"Together together..."

"As soon as you felt like it. And that's why I also thought you didn't like me as much as I liked you, because I wanted to sleep with you but you didn't tell me anything so maybe humans take things more slow?"

Dorian had to sit down and cry laugh. 

"I asked Hawke and he adviced me to kiss you while you were distracted and get you naked, but I didn't want to be aggresive. Do you want to kiss me?"

He brings Elmet's hand over his waist, and Elmet's smile widened.

Dorian leant forward, catching Elmet's lips in his own, and Elmet's mouth opens to his in an enthusiastic welcome. He brushes a hand through the elf's hair as he’s yearned to do for so long, and just as he predicted, it feels as gorgeous as it looks, a luxuriant burst of black silk.

He makes a helpless noise in his throat, drawing Elmet closer. Elmet responds in kind, crowding against him until their bodies press together in an enthralling alignment, and Andraste, what the fuck was he thinking, believing he could deny himself this?

 


	5. Chapter 5

Elmet trailed his fingers over Dorian, before taking his hand and using it to pull him closer. Dorian allowed himself to be tugged towards him, until they stood toe to toe, his face inches away. It felt like he was looming. Finally, Dorian lifted his hand and slid his fingers into Elmet's hair, cradling the side of his head and pulling him into a kiss.

Elmet's free hand moved to rest on his hip, as Dorian's arms wrapped around his waist to cling to his back. Tightening his arms, Dorian pulled Elmet closer until he was standing between his legs, which were bent as he rested his weight on the table in front of the door. Dorian could hardly believe this was happening and for a moment he wondered if he was lost in another daydream, but as Elmet's hand twisted in his hair he knew he could never have imagined something that felt this good in such startling detail. The fantasies of the past few months were nothing but a mirage conjured by a starving man compared to this.

Breaking the kiss with an obscene wet sound, Dorian looked up at Elmet.

“You’re quite certain?” the elf said. “As I said, I don't want to rush you."

Dorian nodded, his eyes frighteningly unguarded. “I’m tired of imagining things,” he replied simply, quietly.

Elmet kissed him once, twice, thrice more, quick teasing things, before he pulled away despite Dorian' protest. He fished for the oil in the bedside - did the Inquisitor carry it everywhere? - table and crooked a finger at Dorian, reclining with a tilt to his shoulders that was probably meant to be rakish. The effect was somewhat ruined by how he hunched forward, as if his body could not but strain towards Dorian.

He leaned in again, ghosting his lips across Elmet's, and his hot breath overwhelmed his senses.

“Lock the door, Inquisitor, if you don't want Hawke to walk in and join us” he said, his voice low.

Dorian felt his heartbeat thudding in his throat as Elmet guided Dorian' slick fingers between his legs. Elmet's cock was as hard and Dorian was simply grateful that Elmet was asking him to do this to him at all. He was feeling like a virgin again - and it had been a long time. Dorian pulled Elmet's hand and guided him to the bed.

Dorian concentrated as he sought out that spot that—ah,  _there._  Elmet's toes curled reflexively, but he merely ducked his head lower and pressed it into the blankets. One of his hands shot back to pull Dorian away.

"Do it," Elmet said with a wicked smile and rolled over to shove one of the pillows under his hips, which presented his arse rather nicely to Dorian. The Tevinter bit his lip sharply to hold his climax at bay. 

Elmet, face pressed into a pillow, watched with one eye as Dorian gave himself two strokes, featherlight, to spread the oil before moving to hover over Elmet.

Maker, Elmet was  _tight._  They groaned in unison as the head sank in, and Dorian had to pause, one hand braced between Elmet's shoulderblades, to just breathe and think of something unpleasant to calm down. He silently listed mages that worked with his father in the Magisterium and stopped after twenty-five. After a few moments of careful stillness, Dorian let himself push further inside, drawing a deep sigh from Elmet, whose head was resting on his crossed arms.

They fell silent for a bit, Elmet' quips dissolving into sighs and gasps and Dorian concentrating on the sensation of dragging his cock through the gripping heat of Elmet's body. He tried to make it good without hitting the more intense places too much, leaving space for Elmet to decide when.

Where before Dorian had been focused, he suddenly felt wild and joyous, letting his body rut forward how it wanted. He was spurred on by the slap of their sweat-slick skins, the rhythmic knocking of the bed against the wall; and Dorian thought that there was no one to hear them, that there was no shame to be found in this cabin, in his life, and he fucked into Elmet with hearty abandon.

It felt like Andraste herself was blessing them from the side of the Maker and Dorian smiled wholeheartedly hearing Elmet moaning.

"I'm going to—"

"Don't pull out," Elmet gasped and that was it, the firmness of that demand, that resolute determination to  _have_  and not be denied, that drove Dorian hard into Elmet another few times as he began to spill. Light flooded the space behind his eyes, blind relief and helpless adoration his chest. It took long to empty himself. Dorian might have felt faintly embarrassed, hadn't he been delirious with sensation and triumph both.

Elmet rolled over and faster than Dorian could see, pushed the mage again inside. Dorian however, saw that Elmet has spilled as well and he felt kind of guilty for not paying attention to him.

Elmet sighed. Dorian could feel the rise and fall of his broad chest.

"That was a lot," he mumbled, nuzzling Dorian' moist temple. "I'm all full."

Dorian had to press his burning face into Elmet's shoulder and Elmet laughed, carding his fingers through Dorian's messy hair. Dorian tilted his head to be kissed, which he was, thoroughly and languidly.

"Stay here," Elmet requested and Dorian was happy to, even though it wasn't long before he slipped out with a gentle trickle of seed as he went soft.

Elmet made a displeased sound at being suddenly left empty, and Dorian reached down to burrow his hand into the heat between Elmet's back and the bedding. He could feel the slick warmth of oil and seed between Elmet's legs, thrilling on a level that was animal and raw and better left unexamined. Dorian felt his belly tighten, even though he knew he wasn't capable of more active arousal again. Elmet mouthed wetly at James' ear, making low noises at the probing fingers.

As their brows cooled Dorian reached into the mess of blankets -"the cold south" - and pulled an unexamined number to cover them. They busied themselves with the steady exchange of shallow, unhurried kisses.

Finally, Dorian sighed and sat up to swing his legs over the side of the bed.

"Where are you going?"

Dorian raised a brow. "I thought a wet cloth—"

"You think too much, mage" Elmet said with his inquisitorial voice. "You'll stay right here and be sticky and disgusting with me. And then we'll have a bath tomorrow."

Dorian shrugged happy and ducked back into their over-warm nest and was immediately held fast by determined hands.

"That's going to take a lot of scrubbing," Dorian said.

"Sorry, I don't think I'll be any help."

"How so?"

"I have been ravished by a Tevinter, and am currently feeling quite plundered."

Dorian snorted into Elmet' neck, which set Elmet off in turn. "You are so cheesy for someone who kills so much people."

Elmet stretched and made a noise of surprise. Dorian raised his brows and looked when Elmet pointed at the wall. There was a mark where the headboard had knocked into it.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Dorian was unwilling to let Dorian out of his sight or his arms the entire rest of the morning. It was rather silly, he supposed, given that their love hadjust began, but something about that bout of long-awaited buggery made Dorian particularly desirous of knowing himself both owner and owned. Fortunately, Elmet seemed to feel the same and sought out contact like an oversized, amorous Dalish cat.

It was wonderful seeing him so at ease, Dorian thought. Elmet shouldn't have to lead an Inquisition and _do_ the things. 

Someone knocked on the door early in the morning, asking the Inquisitor whether he wanted to have breakfast before returning to Skyhold. The Inquisitor yelled that he'd be there in a minute and they abandoned their embrace, getting dressed in one minute. They opened the door and Dorian looked at Elmet. He was walking with more swagger in his step than strictly necessary to go sit on a box. "It will be the perfect day to ride a horse," muttered the Inquisitor.

"Elmet, will you please stop walking like that? It's not  _that_  big." He chuckled, until he saw Hawke climbing the stairs to where they where. "What's big?" asked smugly the Champion.

"Dorian's ego," answered the Inquisitor.

* * *

"So, he went up to you and followed my advice?"

Dorian sighed. He was being patted by a big hand on his back but he couldn't complain. "Yes, Champion."

"And? I would like to say say to you that I heard you two but out threehouse had its own party."

Dorian rolled his eyes.

"Treat him well. And let him know what you want. Elves are obtuse, I have two between my friends and... yeah."

* * *

"Have some salve, Inquisitor."

"Ah, thank you, Anders."

"Don't worry, I always carry more than I need with me. You never know. And don't worry, you can use it later. Did Dorian open?"

"He thought we weren't in a relationship!"

"We humans... are obtuse. But I'm glad. Dorian and you make a great team of intelligent men. I am happy that you let a mage like him by your side."

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

"When did you two become love advisors to Sparkles and the Inqusitor?"

"We aren't... officially," answered Anders, mysteriously.

"It worked, that's what matter, and the Inquisition will be a happier place now that the Inquisitor is filled with happiness."

"Why do I even bother?" Varric sighed into his drink.


End file.
